


Cookies and Friendly Roof Time

by Impreciselanguage



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-08-31 23:43:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8598448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impreciselanguage/pseuds/Impreciselanguage





	

“No really, Sera, I’m a nobody.” Elim laughs lightly because it sounds absurd even saying it, because it was hard not to feel lighthearted sitting on the rooftops in Skyhold. Sera’s eyebrows lower and she snorts.  
“Right, Yeah, real nobody you.” She glares at the tower on the other side of the castle. “You blind or just stupid?”  
“That’s not . . . all I meant was, I’m not anybody special.” He knows he’s made another misstep and doesn’t know how to repair this. Sometimes, talking to his friends made all the careful maneuvering and intrigue of the Winter Palace seem easy in retrospective. It wasn’t, but as Elim didn’t actually give a damn about any of the nobles there he could enjoy the Game without really worrying about hurting anyone.  
“Whatever,” Sera says. She eyes him and for a moment he thinks she’s going to open up or shout at him but instead she jumps up and announces she’s going to the kitchens. Elim isn’t sure if she’s inviting him and since she runs off without another word, and he has more work to do, he doesn’t follow. She values her freedom, and he still doesn’t quite understand her. Maybe he never will, and honestly Elim’s fine with that. He doesn’t have to understand her to be her friend.  
But it bothers him for the rest of the day. And while lying in bed that night. It wasn’t nearly as bad as the time he’d discovered that Cassandra had been taking his flirting seriously and Elim still didn’t know how to make that right so he was still avoiding it. Which was probably what Cassandra would have wanted anyway. Besides, he’d gotten her Varric’s terrible romance serial. With Sera, well . . . maybe nothing was even wrong. All he’d meant was he wasn’t the Herald of Andraste, this was all just chance, but it wasn’t what he’d said, was it?  
“The audacity, I can’t believe . . .” he says this out loud, and Dorian mumbles and turns over.  
“What was that? Did I do something audacious in my sleep?”  
Elim laughs. “It’s possible, but no. I . . . are you awake enough to actually talk?”  
Dorian makes an adorable noise somewhere between a laugh and a murmur. “Talk? At this hour? Very well, amatus. What weighty, world-altering matter can I assist you with?”  
“It’s nothing like that,” Elim replies, wondering if Dorian can even help with this. “I said something stupid to Sera and I’m trying to think what I can do . . . anything I can give her . . . to make it up.”  
“A decent haircut or diamond-studded “hair-cutting whatevers”? A clean shirt, perhaps?”  
Elim shoves Dorian lightly and laughs. “You’re such a snob, Dorian.”  
“Me, a snob? But of course, that’s part of my charm.”  
Elim smiles. “You are charming. And a snob, but I’m more than a bit of a snob myself. Which is part of the problem, or all of it.”  
Dorian sighs. “And you are the Inquisitor, there’s no problem too big for you, but right now I need my sleep and more importantly, you need your sleep.”  
He’s probably right, and Elim settles back down on his pillow beside him. “My sleep is more important than yours?”  
“Of course not, but if I choose to lay in bed all day everyone will just say ‘oh those decadent Tevinters what else do we expect’? whereas if you do so they’ll all think I’ve corrupted you.”  
“That depends on if we’re in this bed together all day.”  
Dorian laughs. “Now isn’t that a marvelously wicked idea.” He wraps an arm across Elim’s chest, and falls back to sleep. Not exactly what Elim was expecting but this works, too.  
*  
The idea finally comes to him during the next days' session at the War Table. Elim isn’t much use here when he isn’t preoccupied. No one has made a face at him or told him he’s doing a terrible job, but they do realize that no one teaches Mages diplomacy and politics, or military tactics, and they definitely don’t teach them how to be spies. Which was a disappointment until he realized how cold-blooded Leliana could actually be. Not that Cullen was really better in the name of expediency. Still, after he’s made his decision with the Sera situation, Elim is able to focus on the decisions required of the Inquisitor.  
Then, as soon as he’s free, he runs all the way to the kitchens. Or would if it were that simple. Elim gets slightly lost a couple of times and stops to say hello to a few people. Eventually, he reaches the kitchens and the cook stares at him as he explains what he needs.  
“My lord, if you require cookies we will be more than willing to bake you the very finest, fit for the Herald of Andraste.”  
“Thank you,” Elim says. “But I need to make these myself. Alone.”  
“. . . certainly,” the cook replies. And continues to stand around for awhile longer as Elim looks around the kitchen. Eventually, the cook directs him to a recipe and where to find the ingredients, then clears out the kitchen for “The Inquisitor’s use.”  
Elim is sure that the entire servant staff is going to be talking about this in a matter of hours, which is all the more reason for him to finish the job as quickly as possible so it will still be a surprise for Sera. Of course, he’s never actually cooked anything before, but he has the basics of potion-mixing down so how much more complicated could it be? Turns out, they are two completely different things and he isn’t sure what the end result is. Something sort of like a cookie, at least.  
He could try again, but this is a gesture not an attempt to actually learn how to cook, and Elim puts the cookies into a sack and takes them to the Inn. Sera greets him with her usual open “Hey, you. Always good to see you, yeah?”  
“Yeah,” Elim says. “I mean yes. Did you have a moment?” He waves out the open window, and Sera grins and swings out as if she was born to the rooftops. For all Elim knows, she was. He follows her out and sits down. He hasn’t made any plan for how he’s going to offer her the cookies and all the diplomatic talents he’s been developing fail him in this. “I . . . tried to make cookies.” He takes a cookie out and shows it to her. It’s more of a burnt husk that resembles more of a lump of coal than a cookie. Sera wrinkles her nose and starts to laugh.  
“This is nice, yeah? I mean, not the cookies, they’re rubbish. But that you made them.” She looks at the cookie. “Don’t think I’m going to eat it though.”  
“That’s . . . probably for the best.” Elim sighs. “Sera, I was an ass. I know I’m not a nobody and I know I’ve had a lot of . . .” opportunities wasn’t the right word. Mages did not exactly have opportunities. “An easier life than you or a lot of people. All I meant was, this could have happened to anyone. There’s not any reason for it.”  
Sera eyes the so-called cookie contemplatively and is silent for a few moments. “Well, the way I look at it is – it happened, yeah? And not to anyone, but to you and that was right. So why’s it got to have a reason?”  
Elim considers this, and it makes as much sense as anything else. And then sees Commander Cullen passing by below them on his way to talk to Cassandra. Sera starts to giggle and Elim grins. “If we get a cookie into his fur coat, how long do you think it will take for him to notice?”


End file.
